


Vaskian Hospitality

by punktius



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Anal Sex, Drug Use, M/M, Post-Kings Rising, Public Sex, Unofficial Sequel, consummation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 16:18:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8997934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punktius/pseuds/punktius
Summary: “Halvik has taken the King to be prepared,” she replied back in Veretian so broken he almost couldn’t understand it.“Prepared?”“Yes. For the ceremony,” she said, as if it were obvious.“What ceremony?”“King Laurent of Vere arranged for a wedding celebration between the two of you in the Vaskian style,” another woman said, her Veretian far better than the other’s. She was coming toward him with an armful of cloth and furs. “He did not tell you?”
In which Damen and Laurent have a quite unconventional honeymooning experience.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This can be seen as an unofficial sequel of sorts to [my wedding fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6144920) if you want to read it that way. I dedicate this to my betas Claire and Ruin, because this truly would not be posted without them. <3

“And what is it that we are doing out here in the middle of the night?” Damen asked, amused. An hour or two ago Laurent had shook him awake and thrust clothes into his hands. Riding leathers, he realized after a moment, like the ones Laurent himself was already dressed in. Damen had rubbed the sleep from his eyes and put them on without comment. It reminded him of all the times he and Laurent had to sneak around together in the dead of night while everyone else slept, leaping across rooftops and donning disguises. Except he had been asleep, naked, in the bed he and Laurent shared in the royal chambers at Acquitart, and they were on their way back to Arles after having been betrothed in Ios. Damen had to remind himself again of this when he finished dressing and Laurent silently lead him out of their chambers and through the dim, quiet halls of the palace. Damen noted that there had not been guards at their doors, nor did there seem to be any posted anywhere in the palace, and he wondered silently what exactly Laurent was up to. He’d let himself be led out to the stables, where his gelding and Laurent’s mare were saddled and waiting for them. They had been riding for a while in a seemingly random direction when Damen had finally spoken his question.

But a calm “Be patient,” was all Laurent would allow him, and Damen was content to do that for now, if not made easier by the knowledge that Laurent had gone to seemingly great lengths to plan this, whatever this was, just for him.

After a long, silent ride, Laurent stopped his horse suddenly, and they seemed to be waiting. Damen didn’t ask this time and dismounted at Laurent’s order just as he heard footsteps approaching them. It was--and now Damen was really experiencing a fold in time--a tribe of Vaskian women, their horses abreast as they came forward, all covered in cured leathers and furs. In the center was none other than Halvik, and she and Laurent greeted each other in the Vaskian dialect. Halvik turned to Damen, too, and greeted him in heavily accented Veretian.

“The last time you came, you were the Prince’s pet,” she said, a wide smile splitting the crag of her face. “This time, you are a guest of honor. Come, and we will show you Vaskian hospitality.”

_Vaskian hospitality_ , Damen remembered, had dressed him in a loin cloth and engorged him with hakesh so he could service Halvik’s girls around the coupling fire. He shot a look at Laurent, who reached out and squeezed his arm. His eyes said, trust me. And so Damen let the women slip a blindfold over his eyes, let himself be lead through the mountains, until finally they reached the camp, and the blindfold was lifted. Damen blinked and looked around, his eyes adjusting. But he did not see what he was looking for.

“Where is he?” he asked the nearest woman, in Veretian.

“Halvik has taken the King to be prepared,” she replied back in Veretian so broken he almost couldn’t understand it.

“Prepared?”

“Yes. For the ceremony,” she said, as if it were obvious.

“What ceremony?”

“King Laurent of Vere arranged for a wedding celebration between the two of you in the Vaskian style,” another woman said, her Veretian far better than the other’s. She was coming toward him with an armful of cloth and furs. “He did not tell you?”

Damen felt himself smiling, and shook his head. “That one is always full of surprises.”

He jumped when he suddenly felt hands pulling at his clothing, picking at the Veretian laces without finesse. He waved the women away and undressed himself, allowed the woman with good Veretian--Mora, he learned--to help him into the clothing she had brought. It was no more than a brief cloth undergarment and a long, dark cloak made of soft fur. Mora also looped a series of black gems connected by gold chain links around his neck and placed a similar-looking coronet on his head, and his skin was treated with scented oils and salves. The women braided a few sections of his hair and then pulled it all back into a knot at the crown of his head, like the women with shorter hair and some of the Vaskian slave men wore it. He turned again to Mora when they seemed to be done with him.

“Where is Laurent? Can you take me to him?”

“Not yet. When the ceremony begins, then you will see him.”

“This ceremony...what is it exactly?”

“You really know nothing, do you?” she said while laughing, and Damen guessed the language barrier made that sound ruder than she had intended. Probably. “To celebrate a wedding, we gather around the fire under the full moon, and perform a dance.”

“A dance,” Damen said.

“Yes. I will show it to you now, and you will perform it with your husband once you are both ready, by the coupling fire.”

“And then?”

“Then we will give you both the ceremonial drink, and the spirit of _Anrah_ will possess the King of Vere--”

“-- _possess?_ \--”

“and you will consummate your marriage of the coupling fire.”

Damen could only blink and stare at Mora with his mouth opening and closing, unsure of what to ask first. His mind was swirling with questions, the main one being why, and one he wished he could ask Laurent. Laurent had known all this and arranged still for the ceremony, had awoken Damen in the middle of the night to bring him here for it. Damen let that thought sink in for a moment.

_And you will consummate your marriage of the coupling fire._ Not that Damen was any sort of stranger to the Vaskian coupling fire, but the thought of making love to Laurent in front of a hundred strangers was putting him more than a little on edge. Was Laurent really planning on going through with all this?

Damen learned the dance with Mora in a short amount of time--it was not too complicated with a few basic steps to memorize, as a set of sword parries or a battle formation. He found out meanwhile that _Anrah_ was the Vaskian moon goddess of sex and fertility, and that the ceremonial drink was actually just hakesh mixed with a root that increased libido, similar to the Akielon pleasure drug Damen was familiar with. Then he was led out to the fire where many were already gathered, drinking and laughing and dancing. He was taken to the dais and instructed to wait, a cup full of milky hakesh thrust into his hand. Damen drained the cup, and another, and yet another in an attempt to calm his nerves, before Laurent finally appeared.

A hush went through the crowd, suddenly, and the steady beat of the drums seemed to become hushed too. For a moment, he could only see the top of a yellow head before the crowd parted, creating a clear path for Laurent to the dais where Damen awaited him. He was wearing a garment that Damen did not know what else to call but a dress, made out of fabric so fine and white it was almost transparent, with short sleeves that revealed his shoulders and gaps in both sides starting at the hip and running along the length of Laurent’s legs to the floor. His hair was also braided in sections and pulled back, and he was wearing a coronet and necklace that matched Damen’s. He looked...beautiful. So much so that Damen felt his tongue heavy as a brick between his teeth, unable to speak, and it didn’t help that Laurent’s clear blue eyes were unrelenting upon him, as if it were only the two of them. The drumbeat grew loud and wild again, and the crowd became a blur of dancing bodies. Damen noticed for the first time that Laurent was flanked by four women, and suddenly they all began to move at the same time, in a synchronized dance.

This dance, Damen thought, was far more complicated than the one he had been required to learn. Laurent and the women turned and whirled with the heartbeat of the drums, their hands moving in motions as fluid and synchronized as their feet. The shock Damen felt when he realized there was no way Laurent learned all this tonight, that he must have been practicing the dance for weeks now, was only slightly diluted by the reality of it, the exact but graceful movement of Laurent’s lithe limbs, the sway of his hips and toss of his head. And his eyes. Those insufferable blue eyes that never left Damen’s own, that let Damen know all this had been done--was being done for him, that Laurent was dancing for him. Damen barely realized the moment when he rose and began descending the dais steps toward Laurent.

The women who had come with Laurent were no longer there, Mora was no longer there. It was just him and Laurent, and although an endless blur of bodies whirled around them, it somehow felt like it was just the two of them. Damen stepped forward as Laurent stepped back, and they circled each other, the dance initiated.

There was so much Damen wanted to say as he met Laurent’s gaze, so much he wanted to know. But everything faded away from them as Damen stepped forward and took Laurent in his arms, dipped the golden head low to the ground and back up again. Laurent’s fair skin was also oiled and he was sweating from the exertion, the shine of it across his collarbones visible in the light of the fire. Damen had a hand at the small of Laurent’s back and was considerably taller, but it was Laurent who led them, their feet circling. It seemed to be only a brief and fantastic moment that they danced before Damen felt hands on him, and he was pulled from Laurent and his head was tipped back. A warm, harsh drink was poured into his mouth. It had the familiar sweetness of hakesh, and he drank what fell into his mouth, as much of it also spilled onto his throat and down his bare chest. He was made to sit on the dais again after he finished, and he took a moment to breathe and press his palms against his eyes briefly.

A heady electricity pulsed through him suddenly, spreading a fire in his veins, and he opened his eyes in time to see the women who had given Laurent the drink now circling him with large wooden bowls full of berries and flower petals. _The spirit of Anrah will possess the King of Vere…_ he heard Mora’s words like a distant echo in his head as the women weaved in and out of formation around Laurent, scattering petals at his feet, bowing and raising their arms above themselves as Laurent stepped forward toward the dais. Laurent raised his arms up toward the full moon that hung above them, his face tilted up as if to greet it, and when he met Damen’s eyes again there was something different--a silky, sultry quality took over his gaze and his dance, a level of eroticism that Damen had not yet witnessed in him before. Laurent’s movements became less calculated and more free and easy, erratic, as if the whirlwind of his feet and the untamed swing of his hips was second nature, fitted to him like a riding glove and innately sexual. It felt so much like a dream that Damen half expected to wake up in their bed at Acquitart at any moment now, and he would roll over to take Laurent, still warm with sleep, into his arms.

But he didn’t. He was here, in the heart of Vaskian territory, and Laurent was dancing for him in the night. Laurent’s eyes never once left Damen’s as he ascended the dais steps, offering a light touch that traveled from shoulder to shoulder as he circled behind Damen on the fur-drenched dais, and then, somehow, they were kissing, and Laurent was fully in his lap. Damen felt the surge of electricity thrum in his body again, and he was already reacting, his cock stiffening in the cloth garment. He felt against his stomach that Laurent was similarly affected, and a different kind of thrill went through him when he remembered sharply where they were, that they had many witnesses.

_You will consummate your marriage of the coupling fire._

Normally, Damen would’ve suggested they excuse themselves to continue elsewhere, matters of the heart and body a private affair in Akielos. But suddenly it didn’t matter where they were, or who was watching, or even that he and Laurent had consummated their marriage dozens of times before this. The capability to think about anything but the desperate way Laurent was grinding his hips down on Damen’s erection was lost to him, and one look into Laurent’s eyes told Damen that he was feeling similarly. The thought of stopping long enough, or even caring enough to relocate was ludicrous. Damen felt again as if it were only the two of them, and that’s what he chose to believe as Laurent rid him of his garment and pushed the heavy fur from his shoulders. Laurent did not remove his dress but straddled Damen’s lap so that the flow of fabric covered them where they would join. Damen moved his hand beneath the garment and felt that Laurent had been prepared for this, too. He was so hard it hurt, and this discovery only made his condition worse.

“Laurent,” he said, sounding desperate even to himself, and Laurent groaned low in his ear as they lined up.

The head slipped in, and Damen felt all the air leave his lungs. They were doing this, here. It was really happening. He didn’t have much time to dwell on it before Laurent began to sink down on him, every inch agonizing, the firestorm in his blood threatening to consume him. Laurent seated himself fully and then rested his forehead against Damen’s, their breathing equally ragged.

“I love you,” Damen breathed as Laurent lifted himself, only to sink down again, and again. The words came unbidden and in Akielon. “I love you, I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone, more than I ever dreamed I could…”

“ _Damen_ ,” Laurent hissed through his teeth, like a curse. He pushed Damen to lay on his back so that he sat astride, and then pulled the leather tie from his hair so that it fell loose and disheveled around his shoulders. Laurent put his hands on Damen’s chest, and the way the pale column of his throat looked in the firelight when he tossed his head back was the last thing Damen remembered before darkness took him.

~

He awoke the next morning in a low Vaskian tent strewn with silks and furs, the sun streaming through the cracks in the fabric. Laurent was sleeping soundly next to him so that it all might have been a dream, except that they were both still wearing their necklaces, and Damen felt the effects of the night’s drinking in his pounding head and heavy limbs. He closed his eyes and tried to remember--the dance, the ceremony, the drink--slowly, the night returned to him. He remembered Laurent, beautiful and otherworldly, dancing like an ember beneath the moon, the sultry blue eyes, the dress. He remembered being given a drink so strong it caused his grip on reality to slip. And then he remembered Laurent sauntering up the dais steps toward him, kissing him, impaling himself on Damen’s cock in full view of everyone. Damen felt himself flush, an uncomfortable heat spreading through him.

“Good morning,” Laurent said quietly, and he was smiling when Damen turned to look at him, despite everything.

“Good morning,” Damen said, and they were silent for a moment as they gazed at each other.

“I am sure you have questions,” Laurent said finally, the small, amused smile never leaving his lips.

“Yes,” Damen said, gathering himself. “I...Do you remember last night?”

“Most of it,” Laurent said, after a moment of looking thoughtful. “And you?”

“I remember that we fucked in front of everyone.”

“As the ceremony calls for, yes.”

“Why--” Damen started, and stopped, so unsure of Laurent’s answer that he wasn’t even sure what exactly to ask. Laurent met his gaze easily, his expression becoming serious.

“In Vere, it is customary for the King to consummate the royal marriage publicly.”

Damen knew that already; it didn’t make things any clearer. “But I thought it was supposed to be in front of the Veretian council--”

“Halvik,” Laurent said, running his fingers through his hair. “is on my council.”

That realization bit into Damen, and he laid back to stare at the ceiling. A memory flashed through his mind of the two of them with what had been the Regent’s council in Ios, meeting to discuss the royal marriage of Akielos and Vere.

“The consummation will have to be witnessed,” Herode had insisted while giving Damen a pointed look, which Damen returned as he opened his mouth to speak.

“No.”

But it had not come from Damen. Every gaze swung around to stare at Laurent.

“Your Highness,” Herode began. “It is an age old tradition that the King consummate in view of the council--”

“It is against Akielon propriety, and I will not expect the King of Akielos to participate in such activities.” Laurent said, the stubborn set of his jaw visible when he lifted his chin. But Herode would not drop the issue that time, nor any other time it came up, which Herode and a few other older members of the council made sure was often. And every time, Laurent had shut them down.

Damen had felt both touched and ashamed that Laurent had put his own legitimacy as King on the line just to protect Damen’s modesty--touched because it was sweet, and ashamed because it was ridiculous that Laurent should have his right to be King questioned again just because Damen was bashful. But Laurent had solved the problem for them, in a way that would both appease the Veretian council and was minimally scarring to Damen. In fact, Damen realized suddenly that he had even enjoyed it. He let the warmth in his chest radiate out to the rest of his body as he gazed at Laurent.

“You are unbelievable.”

“Am I?”

Damen smiled. “Were you really possessed by the Vaskian sex goddess?”

“She is technically the goddess of the moon. Sex just happens to be one of the things she oversees, I believe it is.” Laurent said steadily, but colour was creeping into his cheeks, betraying him. Damen remembered the movement of Laurent’s body, the sensuality that seemed to come from some deep, unearthed part of him, the dance nothing short of a public seduction. Damen remembered the way his own body had felt both alive with sensation and disconnected from reality after the drink was given to him, and he remembered seeing Laurent’s eyes huge and dark with pupil at almost the same moment.

“You’re smiling.”

“Are you going to keep that dress?”

Laurent let out a breath of laughter, and Damen allowed himself to gather Laurent in his arms, to feel their bare skin touch. “You should have seen what they wanted to dress me in, at first. It was shorter than a chiton. You would have loved it, I’m sure.”

“Can we arrange for it to be brought home with us as well?”

Laurent smacked his chest playfully and they both laughed, even as the sun rose high into the middle of the sky, in place of the moon.

**Author's Note:**

> Talk to me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/jithongchy)


End file.
